"And that," said Donderveld, cocking his head askew, "is why, and this," he continued, holding up a pop-over by the scruff of his kneck, "is how."
"Rhetoricaly speaking, or metaphricaly speaking?" asked Bixter.
"Yep-er," replied Donderveld confidently.
"Did you enjoy this little chat?" Asked Bixter.
"yes, as a matter of fact, I did," relied Donderveld, "I feel new and beautiful."
"Well I should hope that you got all the enjoyment out of it you'll ever want," said Bixter with an evil an evil grin, "because you just chatted your last chat ever!"
"I did not!" yelled Donderveld.
"Did too! Even ask him!" said Bixter, pointing at me.
"Who, the writer?" asked Donderveld.
"Me?" I asked.
"You can't talk to the writer," said Donderveld.
"Well," I said, "I guess you could...but..."
"Go on, ask him," said Bixter.
"Okay...um...did I just chat my last chat?" asked Donderveld nervously.
"Well it depends," I said "Do you want that to be your last chat?"
"No, I want to have many more!" yelled Donderveld.
"Okay," I said. "You can have a few more...I guess."
"What?" yelled Bixter, outraged, "You can't do that!"
"Why not?" I asked. "I..."
"Hold it!" Bixter interupted, "I wasn't outraged when I said that!"
"What are you talking about?" I asked him, "you were furious!"
"I know, but I wasn't outraged," he said furiously.
"I..." I began.
"Hold on again!" he interupted "That time I was outraged! Not furious!" He rolled his eyes and looked and Donderveld.
"I really prefer to be called Don," said Donderveld. "Hey! What did I just say?"
"Look," I said, "Who's writing this story, me or you?"
"What?" said Donderveld "this is a story?"
"Yes," screamed Bixter "You didn't know this was a story? What kind of idiot are you?"
"Golden Burmiese," replied Donderveld. "We're an endangered species, you know."
"Ha!" Bixter suddenly bust out "You're wearing a duck suit!"
"Hey!" said Donderveld, glaring at me. "You couldn't write on the back of your hand if you didn't know where the barn was!"
Everyone fell silent.
"Now," I said "You have chatted your last chat!"
"Nooo!" He screamed, "Don't end it! Bring me back in another story! An animated feature! A Broadway musical! Anything, please!"
"Sorry," I said.
"What about me?" asked Bixter, timidly.
"Well...lets see...I'll bring you back in a story called 'Adventures in Taiwan.'"
"Thanks!" said Bixter, thumbing his nose at the now weeping Donderveld.
"Here goes...." I said
"Noooooooooo!"
OR
